


I'll Keep Finding, Finding You

by JustGail



Series: Come Back To Me [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, M/M, Neurodivergent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Polyamory, Sequel, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and there was only one bed gasp, is it gay to Yearn folks?, that is I’m gay and I yearn so Geralt is gay and Yearns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25355074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGail/pseuds/JustGail
Summary: Jaskier did not leave.He set a brutal pace, taking fewer breaks than he normally would, hoping that Jaskier would simply tire and stay behind.Jaskier walked faster.He went on contracts, coming back bloody and gruesome, and still –Jaskier stayed.And when he looked at Jaskier, strumming his lute mindlessly across the fire at their camp later, Geralt was surprised to feelwantpulse through his veins, so strong he almost choked on it.Direct sequel/retelling of The Loves of Jaskier, Bard Extraordinaire.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerburg
Series: Come Back To Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767430
Comments: 27
Kudos: 159





	I'll Keep Finding, Finding You

**Author's Note:**

> I kept it somewhat vague in the first fic, but the timeline isn’t that complicated: Jaskier is 22 rather than 18 when he meets Geralt. In the official timeline Jaskier is 27 during the banquet, and he’s still 27 in this timeline when that happens, so relative to the story, it happens four whole years earlier. Basically Geralt and Jaskier just know each other four years less than they do in the TV series.  
> I’m pretty sure this won’t really make sense if you don’t read The Loves of Jaskier, Bards Extraordinaire. But whatever, it’s a sequel, and as I said before: I do what I want.
> 
> The name of the series will probably make a lot more sense once you've read this, although I did hint at it in The Sound of My Own Voice (Asking You To Stay).
> 
> Title is from Finding You by Kesha, a song that makes me think of Geraskier every time.

**1: In Which Jaskier Does Not Leave**

Geralt could remember the first time he saw Jaskier, a man with bread in his pants, asking for a review – three words or less.

He immediately disliked him. Something about the boy – for he was young, so much younger than Geralt – made him feel uncomfortable in a way he didn’t understand. Something about the way he looked at Geralt, the way he spoke to him, the way he followed him to the edge of the world and never doubted that Geralt would save him.

Jaskier called him Butcher, but he believed in him nonetheless. This made no sense to Geralt, and made him unreasonably angry.

The night they first camped together, they shared food and Geralt called him _boy_.

“I’m twenty two,” Jaskier said indignantly.

Geralt scoffed. “As I said.”

Coin was tight, and Geralt, as a rule, would not stop at inns when he knew he would not be welcome. He was rarely welcome when there was a contract, let alone when there wasn’t one. Jaskier complained, and Geralt told him that he could leave, if he was unhappy with the arrangement.

Jaskier did not leave.

He set a brutal pace, taking fewer breaks than he normally would, hoping that Jaskier would simply tire and stay behind.

Jaskier walked faster.

He went on contracts, coming back bloody and gruesome, and still –

Jaskier stayed.

Jaskier made himself surprisingly useful. He was practically a child, sure, but he still helped where he could. He could set up a decent fire, and diligently cleared their campsite of any twigs and rocks, and he helped cook whatever meat Geralt would catch for them, when he did. And at inns, he always made sure that a hot bath was waiting for him when Geralt returned from a contract – _how_ he knew exactly when it was that he was returning, Geralt didn’t know, but he did.

So Jaskier was helpful, but he was also _loud_ , and Geralt didn’t do _loud_. His constant chattering and strumming and singing drove Geralt absolutely mad. Humans were so much louder than the nature he usually surrounded himself with. Even songbirds with their incessant twittering didn’t bother him as much as Jaskier.

So Jaskier was helpful, and also loud, but he was also _soft_ , and Geralt didn’t know what to do with _soft_. Soft hands touching him when he least expected it, which was always. The first time Jaskier offered to wash his hair, Geralt all but growled at him.

“ _Why_?”

Jaskier laughed. They’d been on the road together three months at this point, and the idea that Jaskier could be relaxed enough around him to laugh was still baffling. “Because we’re friends,” he said, “and because I want to.”

“We’re not friends,” Geralt said, and then he let Jaskier wash his hair.

It was… good.

Soon enough, however, autumn turned to winter, and Geralt left Jaskier to go to Kaer Morhen.

“Humans are not allowed there,” he said matter-of-factly. No matter how much Jaskier would like to follow, he couldn’t. Jaskier pouted, but eventually relented; Geralt sighed in relief caused by knowing that Jaskier wasn’t _completely_ devoid of self-preservation.

Geralt left Jaskier behind at a small town near Oxenfurt, and was sure that he would never see the bard again.

**2: In Which Jaskier Keeps Finding Him**

Geralt hated being touched. He hated the scent that humans leave behind, the way it lingered and reminded him of them. He hated the way it burned, the way it made him feel _dirty_. He hated the feel of skin touching skin when it wasn’t absolutely necessary, and avoided it as much as possible.

But his body had needs, and so he took care of them. He visited brothels, when they’d take him, and he made sure to leave the woman satisfied, and the release was good, it was. Still, he felt dirty. Still, the touch burned.

Jaskier found him less than a month after he left Kaer Morhen. It was probably coincidence. He was sitting in a tavern, eating his first warm meal since leaving the keep, and Jaskier swaggered in, clearly tired yet somehow energetic at the same time. It didn’t take long for him to spot Geralt, and the grin that spread across his face was obscenely wide, an unnatural reaction to spotting any witcher, let alone Geralt.

Jaskier made his way to Geralt’s table, which was, as usual, in the back, where he could see everyone and everything if he so wished. He stopped by the innkeeper on the way, and Geralt could hear him order an ale and a hot meal over the bustle of the crowd, and he was forcibly reminded of how _loud_ the tavern was, and he’d been working so hard to ignore it, to focus on his food and nothing else.

“Geralt!” Jaskier said, and Geralt tried very hard not to wince at the volume, he did, but it clearly didn’t work, because when Jaskier sat down, his next words were quieter, although the energetic tone stayed. “I’m glad I found you,” Jaskier said. “This winter’s been pleasant enough, but I couldn’t help but miss my travel companion!”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, and continued eating. Jaskier clearly took this as encouragement to continue, although it definitely hadn’t been, and launched into a series of stories regarding his winter escapades. Geralt attempted to tune him out, but it was impossible. It seemed that the moment Jaskier showed up, Geralt lost the ability to control his senses; they were attuned to Jaskier, and to his movements, and to his voice, and to his _scent_ , which, this close, overpowered the stench of piss and vomit that otherwise permeated the tavern.

Geralt had not managed to find many contracts since leaving Kaer Morhen, and the meal had been expensive. So when Jaskier offered to share a room, he took him up on it. And when the room only had one bed, he shared it with Jaskier, as they often had during the two seasons they’d traveled together before. And somehow, even though the warmth of the body next to him _should_ have bothered him and the sound of Jaskier’s snoring _should_ have been unbearable, he found he didn’t mind.

Half a decade passed, somehow, with them traveling together. Sure, sometimes Jaskier and Geralt would part ways even before winter came around, sometimes Jaskier would leave for a few weeks in the middle of a season, sometimes Geralt would leave him behind. But somehow, Jaskier always found him, and Geralt would let him join him again, and they would make their way across the Continent.

Jaskier messaged his bottom, and dragged him to a banquet, and Geralt tempted destiny, and destiny was a cruel mistress, so it immediately bit him in the ass.

Geralt couldn’t sleep, and Jaskier found him again, and Geralt made a wish that hurt him, and then he slept with Yennefer, and Jaskier was waiting for him, of course he was, and Geralt had fucked Yennefer and had orgasmed and had finally, _finally_ slept.

And when he looked at Jaskier, strumming his lute mindlessly across the fire at their camp later that day, Geralt was surprised to feel _want_ pulse through his veins, so strong he almost choked on it.

**3: In Which Jaskier Is There**

Geralt started noticing things about Jaskier.

Or, he stopped putting so much effort into _not_ noticing Jaskier.

Or, he let himself acknowledge everything he had already been noticing about Jaskier.

Everything that he liked about Jaskier.

Geralt didn’t like to be touched, but he liked to be touched by Jaskier. He liked it best when Jaskier touched him while being useful – when he did it to sew a nasty cut, to bandage him, to rub salve on his wounds; Geralt liked that he didn’t have to hold back an errant hiss or gasp, that he had the excuse of being too exhausted to pretend he didn’t want to be touched.

Geralt didn’t like strong scents, but he liked Jaskier’s scent. He liked that Jaskier stopped wearing heavy perfumes around him, that he smelled of lute strings and wood oil and _Geralt_ , the last through no fault of his own. He liked that he made his own soap and that its cedarwood and chamomile scent was subtle enough for Geralt to use without being overwhelmed.

Geralt didn’t like loud noises, but he liked Jaskier’s calming hum. He liked the soft sound of lute by the fire at night before they went to sleep. He liked Jaskier’s softer, sweeter ballads, that made him think of elsewhere, that let him escape his reality. He liked Jaskier’s voice murmuring under his breath for Geralt to hear and nobody else, somehow overcoming the noise of full taverns and busy inns.

Geralt didn’t like talking, but he liked that Jaskier talked to him. He liked that Jaskier had managed to learn to discern between his hums and grunts and that he had wanted to in the first place. He liked that Jaskier didn’t give up on him, that he left room for him in any given conversation, that when Geralt was too tired to speak he didn’t care, that he talked enough that Geralt couldn’t retreat into his own loneliness and drown in it.

Geralt liked that he didn’t feel lonely, anymore. He couldn’t remember ever not being lonely before.

**4: In Which Jaskier Finally Leaves**

Just because Geralt _wanted_ , didn’t mean he had to act on it. One day, Geralt knew, Jaskier would leave, and he wouldn’t come back, and that day would come sooner rather than later if he expressed his desire. Jaskier was human, and Geralt wasn’t, and he’d learned many years ago what that meant. Over a century of life in the cruel world had taught him better.

And he wanted Yennefer, too, and he couldn’t have Jaskier, but he could have Yennefer, even though she always left, even though she wasn’t his to keep.

Yennefer always left, but Jaskier always came back, and on a mountain hunt for a dragon that could not give any of them what they wanted, Jaskier broke his unspoken promise to _stay_. Or – Geralt broke his unspoken promise to let him. Or – Geralt refused to want any longer.

Jaskier left, and Geralt knew that he would never come back.

He never even called him _friend_.

Geralt found his Child of Surprise, and his life changed forever. Here was someone who made him want to _stay_.

He took her to Kaer Morhen, and he and the other witchers trained her. And when winter ends, he found Yennefer and begged her to help train Ciri, and she agreed, and he wasn’t good at reading people, he never had been, but he could see how she changed, just as he had.

And then, armed with the knowledge that Ciri was safe, he returned to the Path, as he was a witcher, and for two years, that was his life again. Sure, he returned to Kaer Morhen in autumn rather than winter, as he was returning not only for the other witchers, but for Ciri, too; but his spring and summer were still spent traveling the Continent, taking contracts and being spat on by humans and refusing to acknowledge that he was lonely.

**5: In Which He Brings Jaskier Home**

The first sign was his scent. It had been three whole years since the dragon hunt, since that dreadful mountain, and yet Jaskier’s scent was still as familiar as Yennefer’s, as Ciri’s, as his own. He made his way through the small town to the tavern, where he could hear lute strings being plucked quietly, the way Jaskier always played when he was getting ready for a performance, as if he was getting reacquainted with the instrument. Geralt felt his heartstrings being _pulled_ in the direction of the music. He entered the tavern, his eyes sweeping across the room, but Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. Still, the music was closer, now; perhaps he had rented a room and was practicing.

Geralt ordered an ale and sat down, waiting patiently for Jaskier to arrive.

Jaskier looked good.

There was a brightness in his eyes that made Geralt’s heart ache and the way he projected his voice around the room was so familiar Geralt could have almost let himself believe nothing had changed, that they were still walking the Path together, that the dragon hunt had never happened and that he’d never found Ciri and that he hadn’t loved Yen and that it was just the two of them, strapped for coin and exhausted from another hunt. If he closed his eyes, he knew he could pretend nothing had changed.

He didn’t close his eyes.

Jaskier looked good, but he also looked somewhat haggard. He hid it well, perhaps so well that nobody but Geralt would be able to tell. He’d clearly been on the road for a while, perhaps without a room or a full meal for weeks. His cheeks were more sunken than they’d been three years ago, and his eyes had bags under them. Jaskier flushed from exertion far earlier than he should have, a surefire sign that he either hadn’t been eating right, or that he hadn’t been sleeping enough, or both.

Geralt hated seeing him like this. He wanted… He wanted. He wanted to take him home. He wanted to take care of him.

The entire time he and Jaskier talked, all he could think was: _Come back to me_. Over and over, like a heartbeat: _Come back to me, come back to me, come back to me_.

“You could come with me,” he said.

“To Kaer Morhen?”

“Yes,” he said.

 _Come home with me_ , he didn’t say. _Come home_ to _me_.

And Jaskier only agreed for Ciri, but that was enough.

Kaer Morhen would be safe, he told himself, as they made their way up the mountain. Jaskier would be able to relax and heal and he’d be safe.

“You know Ciri?” Geralt asked, pulling Jaskier aside between greetings and dinner.

Jaskier blushed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes,” he admitted. “I went back. To Cintra. Almost every winter. For just a few days at a time. Whenever I could during the year. And before you say anything, all I did was perform, that’s it! I barely spoke to the princess. I wasn’t allowed to sing about you, either, so, it was just… me keeping an eye on her. I know you didn’t want to know anything about her, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. I mean, I know she wasn’t alone – “

Geralt could tell that the rambling would only get worse if he didn’t put a stop to it soon. “Jaskier,” he said, and he immediately stopped. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing even harder. Geralt wondered idly what he had to blush about.

“Come on,” Geralt said gruffly. “Dinner.”

He was surprised at how much it hurt to have Jaskier around and not _have him_.

Not that he ever had him. But he certainly had _more_ of him, before.

Whenever they were in the same room, Geralt could see the hurt in Jaskier’s eyes. And every time, he almost apologized. Every time, he almost told him how much he missed him. Every time, he wanted to ask him to wash his hair, to ask him to hold him, to ask to be allowed to cherish him and then ask to be cherished. But he couldn’t find the words, he couldn’t bear the thought of rejection, he couldn’t help but think: _I don’t deserve him_.

And then there was Yennefer.

**6: In Which Yennefer and Jaskier Get Along Surprisingly Well**

Geralt was fully aware of the fact that he was avoiding Jaskier. It wasn’t that he walked out of the room if Jaskier walked in, but he would grow even quieter than he usually was if it happened, or retire earlier than he meant to. Whenever he looked at Jaskier, all he could think about was his inability to apologize, and it hurt, it hurt too much to be around him.

Not that it was any easier to be around Yennefer. But it was much harder to avoid her, when they were both taking care of Ciri. And it was fine. Really, it was.

He walked into the kitchen, and there was Jaskier, smelling of alcohol and sweat and Lambert’s hangover cure and most of all of _lilac and gooseberries_. He felt a strange pang of – jealousy? No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t jealousy, but it was… longing, perhaps. He could barely stand to be in the same room as either of them without his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“You smell like her,” he said, only barely preventing his voice from breaking.

“Probably,” Jaskier said, and Geralt didn’t understand what that meant, he couldn’t tell what that tone of voice meant. It used to be so easy to read him, but now, now Jaskier was strange and _different_ and this hurt too.

“Did you – “ He didn’t know how to end that sentence. He didn’t know what he wanted to know. _Did you sleep together? Did you connect? (Do you miss me at all? Do you feel the distance as acutely as I do? Do you long to be mine the way I long to be yours?)_

_Did you come here with me but not come back to me?_

“Go talk to your witch,” Jaskier said. “Fix things. Properly. Maybe even apologize – I bet you never did. And leave me the fuck alone, my head is killing me.”

And Jaskier was right. Of course he was right. He hadn’t apologized, and he had spent much longer not apologizing to her than he had to Jaskier.

He couldn’t get the words out around Jaskier, but he’d spent two years getting used to Yennefer being in his life again. Maybe this was something he could fix.

_Every time I’m near you, I say more in five minutes than I’ve said in weeks._

Maybe it was time to take advantage of that fact.

He found her with Ciri, and she agreed to talk the moment he asked, which was good.

“Yen,” he started, and then didn’t know what to say.

“Geralt,” she responded, somewhat mockingly.

He took a deep breath. Then he took another. Yennefer waited for him to speak. He said the first thing that came to him. “Jaskier smelled of you.”

“Yes,” Yennefer nodded, “I imagine he did. Do I smell of him?”

She did. “You do. I didn’t know that you…” He didn’t know how to end that sentence. He didn’t know what they did.

“We didn’t,” Yennefer said simply. “But we understand each other, I think.”

Geralt grunted. “What – “

“Frankly, Geralt, it’s none of your business,” Yennefer said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Now, is that all you came here to say?”

“ _No_ ,” he growled. But the words wouldn’t come. And then: “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Yennefer started laughing.

“Is this – is this amusing for you?”

“Yes,” Yennefer breathed. “You should see your face. It’s like it physically hurt you.”

He grimaced. “I – “ He took a deep breath, then continued with his apology as if Yennefer hadn’t mocked him. She deserved this. “I _am_ sorry. Not – not for everything. But I should have been open with you from the beginning. You deserved better. I tried to save your life, but I hurt you.”

“You did,” Yennefer said. And then, “I forgive you.”

Geralt stared at her.

“Not because of your apology, mind you,” she continued, “which was a valiant attempt, but also rather shit. It’s tiring, is all. To deny myself of something I want.”

Geralt didn’t deserve her, but he had her anyway.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she told him, weeks later.

“Hmm.” He was aware.

“You should talk to Jaskier.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, don’t be such a coward,” she rebuked. “You could have him, same as me. I wouldn’t mind. He deserves to be happy.”

“What does that have to do with me?” He knew he was being obstinate. He had smelled Jaskier’s lust many times over the years. But that didn’t mean he wanted him now. That didn’t mean he wanted him the way Geralt wanted him, to keep and be kept.

“He wants you,” she told him.

“He’s better off without me,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, understanding washing over her features. “You’re afraid of losing him.”

Was that it? Was that what made him hold back? “He’s mortal.”

She scoffed. “What if _you_ die first?” And when he didn’t respond, “You’re a witcher. You battle monsters. That is what you do, that is what you are. Your aging is slowed down, your healing is strong, so you won’t die any time soon of natural causes, but you’re hardly the type of settle down, to live a quiet life. So it is very likely that one day you will come across a monster you can’t kill, and that that monster will instead kill _you_.”

“That’s what life as a witcher is _like_ ,” he snapped. “If that’s too much – “

“Yes, yes, I know. What I’m trying to tell you, however, is that _everybody dies_. You know this better than anyone. Even I, one day, will most likely meet my end. Not for a very, very long time, mind you,” she added as an afterthought. “My point is, if I understood correctly – if the only reason you haven’t fucked him yet is because he’s mortal, then I have terrible news for you, because no one in this keep is going to live forever. Any and all of us could die tomorrow. So. Tomorrow, when I leave, do me a favor.”

“What,” he said gruffly.

“Find your bard in that little courtyard he likes to sit in,” she said, “and kiss him so hard he forgets how to breathe.”

**7: In Which Jaskier Comes Back To Him**

There Jaskier was, in his courtyard. For a moment, Geralt only watched him, breathing his scent, taking him in. He was happy, calm, content.

Geralt was not ready.

He stepped into the courtyard. He sat down on Jaskier’s bench, carefully keeping his distance. He offered the blanket he was carrying to Jaskier, who accepted it wordlessly and wrapped it around himself.

“What are you working on?” Geralt asked, only it came out as more of a statement. Still, Jaskier answered.

“It’s not finished yet. It’s about Kaer Morhen.”

Geralt frowned, suddenly worried. “You know you can’t give details – “

“I didn’t say I was going to play it,” Jaskier said. “I’m not stupid. I’m just… writing it.”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood, but he trusted Jaskier. He nodded, and when Jaskier asked him how he was, he lied and said he was fine.

“Yennefer’s gone.” Geralt knew this. “She told me something strange yesterday, after dinner. She said, _Geralt can do as he pleases_. Do you know what that means?”

Geralt knew this as well.

“Care to share with the class?” Jaskier said, sounding irritated.

Geralt searched for the words. He had found them before, when he spoke to Yennefer. Why couldn’t he find them now?

So once again, he defaulted to the first thing that came to mind.

“You made me apologize to Yennefer.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Well, yes. You can’t very well start a relationship without apologizing for – well – you know.”

“Is that why…” Geralt hesitated. “Is that why we haven’t…. ‘ _started a relationship_ ’?”

This wasn’t the only reason, he knew. On his part. But this – this was about Jaskier. He wanted to know –

_Do you want me the way I want you?_

_Do you want to come back to me?_

Jaskier stayed silent, and Geralt got nervous. It was a strange, foreign feeling. He didn’t like it. “I mean…” _Gods_. “I’m not good at this.”

“Are you…” Jaskier shook his head, disbelief tinting his voice. “What are you trying to tell me? That you – that you’re – what, that you’re interested in me?”

Geralt was a man of few words. Short and to the point. He could do this. “I… Yes. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier started crying, and Geralt didn’t know what to do. His nervousness turned to panic, and he started talking, saying everything he hadn’t been able to say before: “I’m sorry. That mountain – you didn’t deserve that. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me the entire time I’ve known you. It wasn’t – none of it was your fault.”

“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” Jaskier said through tears. Geralt didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to keep talking. And then Jaskier started laughing, tears still streaming down, and Geralt didn’t know what to say.

“Are you – “ _Are you making fun of me?_ He didn’t understand what was going on. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, gods,” Jaskier said. “I love you, you know that?”

 _No_ , he wanted to say, _I couldn’t believe you would ever want me_. But before he knew it, Jaskier was towering over him, and Geralt couldn’t say anything. And then Jaskier leaned down, and placed his hand on Geralt’s right cheek, and kissed him.

It tasted of salt and was far from Geralt’s best kiss and yet he found himself breathless. When Jaskier turned away, he almost chased after him, only stopping at last moment.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Hmm.” _An understatement_.

And then they were kissing again.

_I missed you_ , he didn’t say, later in his bedroom, peppering feather-light kisses all over Jaskier’s torso. _I’ve wanted you for so long_ , he didn’t say, biting Jaskier’s shoulder softly, shuddering at his moan. _I know you’re not mine to keep_ , he didn’t say, as he put his mouth on Jaskier’s digits. _But every time you leave, I want you to come back to me_ , he didn’t say, but still, he pressed it into Jaskier’s mouth, greedily swallowing every moan and shudder and groan Jaskier made.

They didn’t have sex that night, although Geralt knew that Jaskier ached for him as much as he ached for Jaskier. For now, they were content to simply look, and touch, and learn the shape of each other’s bodies. Geralt knew they had time. Days, weeks, months. If Geralt was at all lucky, he would have years. Decades.

 _Come back to me_ , he thought, wished, yearned. _Come back to me_.

But he _had_. Jaskier had come back to him. Jaskier was his, and he was Jaskier’s, and he knew, he knew that this was not nothing, this was not one night.

Jaskier _loved him_ , scars and all.

And if they had to leave each other, sometimes, he knew. They would find each other again.

 _I will always come back to you_.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's that for this series! I know this fic was slightly shorter than the other two, but sometimes a story is finished when it's finished.  
> I know I said I wouldn't publish this in the middle of exam season, but I'm very good at procrastinating, apparently.  
> Just to cheer y'all up, even though I couldn't find a way to put it in the actual fics, my headcanon is that the magic of Filavandrel's lute is keeping Jaskier young (an idea I stole shamelessly from hamartiaaaa's tragically unfinished Of Bards and Witchers. Incredibly recommended, I hope they finish it someday).  
> The soap part is a subtle reference to round_robin's An Exaltation of Wolves series, which I mentioned in the opening notes to my previous fic.
> 
> On Geralt's autism:  
> Geralt's autism is directly based on my own, although he experiences different sensory issues than mine and has more trouble with communicating than I do (something that is rather typical of AMAB autistic people). This is all to say, that although he _is_ touch repulsed, like myself, he doesn't have a problem touching people he trusts. And, well, touch repulsed people can be touch starved too, folks.
> 
> Many thanks to the Jaskel server for being supportive of this endeavor and of my next Geraskier fic, which is already partially written. So y'all have that to look forward to.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed, and if it pleases you, I'd love for you to leave a kudos and a comment.  
> Love,  
> JustGail


End file.
